


End Love

by teamfreewillismygaything



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Gay, M/M, destiel au, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreewillismygaything/pseuds/teamfreewillismygaything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-breakup modern Destiel; Dean's life has a hole in it, and what used to fill that up keeps rubbing at the torn edges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, the rain became synonymous with memories, when Dean was too lazy or tired to grab his earbuds and his half-dead old iPod, when he was sprawled out, half-on, half-off his mattress next to the window, half asleep, half-clothed, with the window half open. A lot of halves. Was that what he was, just a half of something? That was deep. Deep like... Water. Like the rain outside, which was probably pooling into a puddle underneath his bed. Wow, he didn't care, he was exhausted after jogging home since Sam's car had committed suicide, and he had to borrow Dean's baby. Dean didn't like being away from his baby, not since he didn't have much else to do than keep her company. Well, he had things to do, just not a lot he enjoyed. As he fell asleep, the sound of the rain outside blurred into years and years of hearing shoes tap down shiny-smooth school hallways. 

"Wake up, asshat."  
Blinking, eyes blurry, head clouded, feeling the haze of sleep pull away from his brain and retreat down his spine, before he could try to claw at the warm mental blanket and pull it back over himself. He sat up as best he could, rolling over and squinting at his brother, who was making a face as he nosed at some of last week's laundry.  
"Dude. You need to clean."  
"I'm too busy at the.. At the garage,"  
He griped, rubbing his eyes and trying to slide to the edge of the bed without collapsing back into its' warm, soft embrace.  
"You said breakfast, Saturday,"  
Sam reminded him, folding his arms as he watched his older brother stretch, gagging slightly as he tasted his own breath. Somewhat amused by that facial expression, Sam rummaged through Dean's small dresser and found a tshirt that smelled clean enough at him, the once-blue fabric worn soft and nearly gray. He frowned slightly at the faded black constellation design on the front, straightening it out.  
"Isn't this Cas's?"  
He asked, brow furrowing as he looked over at Dean, almost wishing he hadn't asked at the scowl on Dean's face.  
"Mine now,"  
Dean decided, grabbing it and wrapping it around his hand to smell, nodding at it.  
"It's clean. Go chill outside while I change."  
"Dude, you should shower,"  
Sam whined, waving a hand at Dean.  
"You're gross."  
"Shut up, I'd fall and die. I'm that tired. I'll be out in a second, Samantha,"  
Dean leered, and Sam sighed and shrugged, going outside and not saying anything when Dean walked out five minutes later, wearing his jacket over the blue shirt.

"Gimme another beer,"  
Dean huffed when his companion retreated from their spot at the windowsill to go get another cigarette.  
"Get it yourself, you baby,"  
Castiel retorted, pulling the box and a lighter out of his jacket, hung on the doorknob to Dean's room.  
"I don't want to,"  
Dean grumbled, rolling over, onto his back, arm flopping uselessly over the edge of his bed, the glow of his digital clock on the bedside table gleaming off of his ring as he twisted his wrist to watch it catch the soft light. A yellow dot gleamed on the shiny ring as Cas flicked his lighter, and Dean looked up to watch Cas inhale, eyes fluttering closed slightly before exhaling, smoke furling outwards.  
"You're not Smaug,"  
Dean chuckled, and Castiel flicked his eyes at the ceiling, crossing his legs and turning himself slightly so he could look at Dean, cigarette held in between pale fingers, twisting it and rolling it slowly, blue eyes gray in the darkness.  
"Neither are you, but you're taking up about as much space,"  
Cas teased, smirk lifting one corner of his lips at Dean's sudden scowl as he shifted his legs on the bed, sitting up. Castiel's smile continued to hover as he eyed half of Dean's hair, sticking up, but he said nothing as Dean sat down beside him.  
"Gimme some,"  
Dean grumbled, leaning over, and Castiel eyed him, smile gone as he inhaled again. He slowly blew the smoke into Dean's face, releasing the air in his lungs.  
"Yeah, well, why aren't you reaching for it?"  
Castiel queried, chin nodding towards Dean's hands, resting on his jean-clad thighs. Dean coughed a little at the sudden flow of smoke, and shifted slightly. He pulled back, expression surly once more.  
"I was joking. I don't need tarred lungs,"  
He huffed, and Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, but only stood up slowly, unfolding his limbs and walking over to kneel on the uneasy bedsprings, stomach tugging at the noise. He grinned slightly to himself, testing them, getting comfortable, and he knew that behind him, Dean's eyes were on the nicks in the wall by the headboard. Castiel pushed the windowsill open more, leaning out, elbows on the cracked paint. After a few more smoky inhales, with the cigarette hanging from his idle fingertips, arms crossed as he looked up at the sky. His hips twitched when he heard the scream from the reluctant bedsprings as Dean crawled onto the mattress as well, shouldering Cas aside so he could rest his elbows on the windowsill as well, his hands clasped and forearms hanging off of the windowsill, brown sleeves rolled up, a contrast to Cas's thin, pale wrists, lying on top of one another on the sill, more reserved. Castiel watched Dean look up at the sky, before getting bored and looking to the left, blinking at the smirk Castiel gave him. The smirk reserved just for him, only when Castiel was tired and hadn't had coffee and maybe three cigarettes and knew exactly what Dean was thinking. Dean was actively trying not to think about the twitch he saw move Cas's pelvic area when he climbed onto the bed, and Castiel probably knew it. He didn't miss much. Dean huffed slightly, and got even more frustrated when Cas huffed back, except even better than Dean could, since he still had some tendrils of smoke in his mouth. Dean gave up, looking back out, ignoring Castiel's gaze, smell of smoke in his nose and the memory of how nicotine passed from one kiss to another on his tongue. After a few moments of grey and blue and streetlamps and cars going by, Castiel interrupted the silence, voice low and sleepy and rough and stupid.  
"I'm not going to kiss you, you know."  
The words registered, Dean sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head before letting it drop, pulling it back up to squint at Cas.  
"....Dude."  
Castiel waited, blinking at him.  
"No, I'm serious. Could you get anymore gay?"  
He sighed.  
"I'm not even going to roll my eyes. Do I really seem that pathetic to you?"  
"Well, a, we could be fucking,"  
Castiel pointed out, watching Dean's cheeks redden slightly around his freckles.  
"And, b, you seem like you haven't had sex in a couple weeks, to me. I think you're seeing shit everywhere, and I don't know why you haven't gone out to a bar. Chuck says you haven't,"  
And Dean actually does roll his eyes at the name of his landlord.  
"I'm tired, I'm working later,"  
He grumbled, lying on his bed as best he can sideways, resting his chin on his forearms.  
"Yeah dude, you always made time for sex. So I dunno what's up with you, but I don't wanna be putting on airs. There isn't- anything. Our room has been aired out, dude, there's no smoke left,"  
Castiel laughed slightly.  
"I'm just making sure you know that."  
"I hate you,"  
Dean decided, kicking out towards Cas and getting a cut off exclamation, before nearly getting the windowsill slammed on his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes to the tune of/is best read while listening to;  
> Oh lately it's so quiet by OK GO  
> Staring at the stars by Passenger  
> Settle down by Kimbra  
> Sweater weather by the Neighborhood  
> No more running by Animal Collective  
> Closer by the tiny  
> Very busy people  
> Chinatown (?)  
> Eet by Regina Spector  
> Exit wounds  
> Apologize  
> Can I edit things here I will later I'm just gonna post what I have  
> Yea I obv don't have any claim to these perf characters fgfgfggffff


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o man o man this is still in progress yyyeah

There's no kind of comfort than waking up next to someone else. There really isn't. There's the, shit, my mouth tastes like vomit, the did we have sex and I was drunk so I don't remember it, the silent do I still have clothes on. Or, there is for Dean. Either way, it's comforting, even though he's lying with his back to the edge of the bed and he hates that and Cas knows he hates that feeling of vulnerability, which is why Castiel is an asshole and falls asleep on the side of the bed that's closest to the wall so he can kick Dean off the bed if Dean tries to move him without waking him up (which he actually hasn't managed to do, yet). Wow. Now that he's remembered about that, Dean's back feels vulnerable as shit. He shifts slightly, exhaling in relief when the bedsprings yield no cries of complaint. Focusing on Cas, whose eyes are closed, breathing slow, hasn't shaved in maybe one, two days, like usual, hair dark and messy and probably soft, jacket tugged close around him, as Dean's bedcovers are folded up beneath them in a messy mass of blankets. They're both fully clothed, and Castiel's knee bumps against Dean's when his leg accidentally twitches. Jeans rub against jeans, and Dean realizes that his left arm is folded underneath him, but his right is crossed over Cas's left forearm, their arms lying in the foot of space between them, fingers curled loosely against the blue and white bedsheets. Dean's fingers twitch as his brain struggles to figure out which one of his limbs is where, toes wiggling in socks, knee twitching backwards again, rolling his wrist under himself, fingers twitching next to Castiel's, feeling his warm exhales. Whose idea was it to fall asleep like this? Instead of a misty morning, Dean can smell faint smoke and alcohol and Cas's rough voice and soft hair. Just Cas, in general, a smell that only faintly remained in his room, ingrained in the air, in Dean's memory, so used to him being there. Of course, it's not like they never slept at Cas's place, but Cas preferred Dean's. He liked the place better, liked the view and the beer in the fridge and the dirty white walls and liked how he could draw all he wanted all over those walls and Dean wouldn't care. He liked how the smoke didn't drift into the hallway and he liked being in Dean's bed and sleeping on the wrong fucking side to piss Dean off, he liked the springs in the bed and the gentle knock-knock-knocking sound that the headboard made as it hit the wall rhythmically when they fucked. Dean knew all this, he knew everything, he had absorbed everything, and now, only now, once he lacked it, lacked these quirks, the presence of Cas in his life, he realized them, noticed them, saw them everywhere. Dean knew Cas. Knew how he sounded when he talked, when he was pissed, when he laughed, when he was falling asleep while Dean fucked him, how he sounded when he panted, knew how he sounded when the lighter wouldn't light right, how he sounded when he folded a shirt faster than Dean did, how he sounded when Dean bit his neck, knew how he sounded when Dean kissed him when he was trying to fall asleep, how he sounded when Dean tripped him when he got up to get another beer, how he sounded when he fell off the couch, when someone complimented him. Dean's ears ached with a silence that hung heavy every day, lacking Cas. As Dean's eyes traced every single minuscule detail of his previous partner's face, he closed his eyes to stop himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaaaaaaaaay Dean ur so gaaaaaay


End file.
